


The trouble with mortality

by Ygern



Series: Secrets [2]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ygern/pseuds/Ygern
Summary: Robbie can't quite believe the life he leads these days. It's all too good to be true.Mostly fluff. Okay, pretty much all fluff.





	The trouble with mortality

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Captive Audience, but can probably be read as a stand-alone story.

With hindsight, it was his own fault. Lewis should have known better. In what could only be charitably called his golden-adjacent years he’d gone and changed everything in his life, fallen for a man not much more than half his age, and a colleague to boot. He was a walking mid-life crisis cliche. 

It wasn’t that things had gone wrong. They hadn’t. In the six months since Hathaway - James - had moved out of their work partnership and into his bed, Robbie had found a new lease on life as it were. At first he’d been cautious, careful about being discreet and keeping their new relationship on the QT in the office. He didn’t care much on his own account, but he didn’t want James to have to run the gauntlet of secret whispers and hidden smirks. Of course Peterson had almost certainly been told the real reason by Innocent when he’d been precipitously instructed to swap sergeants with Robbie, or maybe he’d worked it out by himself considering his own involvement in the events during that incident in the Spring. To his credit he’d never said a word. James seemed to get on with him which was all that mattered. Lewis privately doubted that James actually needed mentoring through the final stages of preparation for his OSPRE, but he and Peterson seemed to be working effectively and efficiently together. So that was that, apparently. Whatever Peterson knew or didn’t know, things had gone as smoothly as could be hoped for. On the other hand, Thames Valley CID was a small enough station. People couldn’t have failed to notice that the Lewis-Hathaway work partnership, once a seemingly immutable fact of life, had ended rather abruptly. As a result, Lewis had developed a sort of radar that scanned constantly for something that might be amiss.

The problem hadn’t started at home either.

Robbie woke to the sight of a pair of grey-green eyes watching him intently. Then the whole face came into view and James beamed gently at him, it was something like the sun on a warm summer’s day. Then he leaned in and kissed Robbie fervently, both his hands cradling Robbie’s face.

“Morning,” said James.

“Morning yourself,” said Lewis, “you’re in a good mood.”

“I’m always in a good mood,” came the predictable if not particularly accurate reply.

Lewis snorted. 

“Well, I am when I’m here with you, anyway,” the smile grew even wider. James shifted himself further, now straddling Robbie, propped up with his arms on either side of Lewis’s body. “After all, I have you.”

Robbie smiled too. How could he not with his best friend and lover staring at him as though he adored him? James dipped in for another kiss and another, and then buried his face in Robbie’s cheek and murmured “Love you.”

He stroked the back of James’s head, smoothing down the silky hair and then caressing his neck.

“Love you too.”

This was all the encouragement James needed, and he was up again, kissing Robbie’s neck and chest, working his way down his body with deliberate attention to detail. It was going to be another one of those days, where Lewis turned up at work with his lips love-bitten and a dazed smile on his face. People were bound to catch on eventually.

“Hmm?” said James, pausing briefly before lavishing care on Robbie’s hip-bone.

Apparently he’d thought that bit out loud.

“If I keep turning up at work looking as though I literally just spent the early morning hours shagging someone, people are going to catch on.”

James shrugged his shoulders expressively.

“Don’t care.” Then he stopped and raised his head. “Do you?”

Right now all Robbie cared about was for that tongue to resume what it had just been doing.

“No. But I wasn’t sure whether you would.”

“Nope. Other people’s opinions of me are none of my business.” The tongue was now exploring the extra-sensitive skin between his hip and his thigh. Lewis gave up on trying to work out exactly what James had just said to him and groaned his pleasure. “At most, they’ll just think I’m lucky.” Only James could continue arguing a particular line of thought and make love at the same time.

“Lucky,” Lewis echoed, his voice slightly unsteady now.

James’s head reappeared, “Mmhmm. I have you.”

Apparently it was just that simple, or at least it was to James.

 

They still took two cars to work. That was a necessity. They no longer worked the same cases, so independent transport was essential. It also meant that they only occasionally bumped into each other in the hallways of CID. Hathaway always gave him a pleased smile when they did meet, even if it was only in passing like two proverbial ships in the night. Lewis supposed that if they were noticed by anyone at all, at least it would put paid to any suspicions that there had been a massive falling out between them; the only other thing that conventionally got a sergeant removed from one inspector and passed on to another. James and Peterson, it had to be said, seemed to be getting along well in their new partnership. It irritated Lewis more than slightly that he was having to cut Action Man a bit of slack, and it grated on him that he even occasionally felt slight gratitude to Alan Peterson for his professional handling of the unusual exchange of sergeants. For his part, Lewis had received DS Matt Jones in exchange for Hathaway, who had proved to be a bit of a plodder not unlike Lewis himself, but earnest and hard-working. Lewis had a bit of a soft spot for the young lad, certainly no clever clogs, but a man who made up for his shortcomings by working as hard as he could. It wasn’t his fault that he was partnered with Lewis, who hadn’t been without a near-genius for a partner in nearly three decades. As a result Robbie was having to adjust his style of working to suit the material he had. He could no longer bounce knotty problems and esoteric ideas off a quick-witted smart-arse. But the lad tried hard and and they were rubbing along as well as he’d hoped for. 

On nights at home James frequently buried himself in the tome of penal code he was required to know for his upcoming exam. Lewis would watch the man study with a tolerant smile on his face. He could well remember his own struggles trying to memorise random pieces of the laws and bylaws back in the day, when his life seemed to revolve around the intricate balancing act of having to keep to his job going while simultaneously raising two children, finding time to be with Val and cater to the whims of the increasingly cranky Inspector Morse. Tedious and copious, that’s what that book was. James seemed to devour chapter after chapter with ease in comparison to his own battles. That didn’t stop James from scowling at it, of course, and complaining bitterly about bits he disagreed with or thought could be improved upon. It wasn’t the first time that Lewis thought that it was lucky that the young, disenchanted seminary version of Hathaway had chosen this side of the law rather than the other as a career path. 

“If I made it through, it will be a walk in the park for you,” he observed when Hathaway tossed the book aside one evening and exhaled heavily, before padding over to the couch where Robbie was ensconced and flopping down at his side.

“What do you mean?” said James.

“Well, you’ve got a degree from Cambridge. I only just made it through O-Levels. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s not the same thing, though,” said James. “A degree in theology doesn’t require memorising long lists of facts. It’s more about being able to argue your case for a philosophical point.”

“Yes. I think I may have noticed a certain tendency to that in our many years together,” said Robbie grinning.

“Very funny. Also, you are perfectly intelligent and insightful. You may fool criminals with your ‘I’m just a Geordie copper from the wild wastes o’ the North’ routine, but you don’t fool me for a minute.”

Lewis laughed silently while preening inside. He glanced sideways at James, who was smiling fondly at him again.

“Bed?” said Lewis.

“Perchance to sleep,” said James, rising and stretching out his hand to Robbie.

“With your libido, I’d say no chance of that at all.”

The fond smile became a sunny grin.

“Can’t help it. Look at who I’m sleeping with these days,” said James.

 

The day of the exam came and went, and Hathaway accepted the news of his near perfect score with studied nonchalance and grace, but betrayed his secret pleasure at the news by giving Lewis a quick little smile of joy. Lewis took them all out for celebratory drinks, Peterson and Jones (who was not ready to sit his OSPRE for a while yet) included. It had been a good evening, and he’d even begun to regard Peterson warmly by the end of the night when Last Round was called. Then it happened. Robbie had donned his anorak and followed James to the side-door. There was a mirror that ran the length of the bar, and he could see himself and James as others must see them. James was tall and beautiful, managing to convey elegance and strength with every step. Lewis at his side looked more like an old nag headed for the glue factory.

On Saturday Robbie announced “I’m going to get rid of these,” gesturing to the pile of offending garments. “Where d’you recommend for coats?”

James looked nonplussed. 

“You want to buy coats?”

“Don’t want these shapeless bags anymore.”

James looked a little puzzled but nodded obligingly. “Okay, I can help you find something you’d like.” 

 

“Well don’t you look like the lost Tsar of Russia,” said Laura in lieu of a greeting when they met up on a chilly afternoon on the edges of a new scene of crime a few weeks later, Robbie togged out in a new woollen overcoat that reached below his knees.

“You don’t like it?” said Lewis feeling a little defensive.

“No, it’s very debonaire,” she replied with a wink. “Suits you. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear one before.”

“I may have donated all my anoraks to Oxfam,” he confessed a little wistfully. “But James likes this.”

Laura’s brow furrowed and she squinted up at him in the pale sunlight.

“Did James say that?”

“About the coat? Yeah. He helped me choose them,” he said remembering the appreciative and lingering looks Hathaway had given him in the shop as he’d tried them on.

“No, I meant, he didn’t suggest you ought to get rid of your anoraks for coats, did he? It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing he’d do.”

“No, it was my choice,” said Robbie, “I was tired of looking tired,” he confessed. “Old”.

Laura rolled her eyes and pulled him aside, out of the earshot of the SOCO personnel milling around.

“You don’t honestly think that James cares about the clothes you wear? Robbie? Don’t get me wrong, it looks good on you. Hathaway has excellent taste. But he’s never going to judge you for the clothes you wear. I doubt he even sees them. He loves you, you great galoot you.”

“Oh ta, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” Robbie retorted sarcastically.

Laura sighed.

 

“I think I want to eat more healthily,” Robbie announced over breakfast one morning. Hathaway looked a little startled over the slice of buttered toast he was cramming into his mouth hurriedly before running out on a new case. “Um, Lynn’s always going on at me about it. And you’ve given up the fags. It’s the least I can do. Maybe a bit of exercise too.”

“Alright,” said James sounding a little caught off-guard. “I’ll devise us a new menu.”

Robbie regretted it almost as soon as he’d said it. He’d never regarded himself as much of a foodie, but he liked his fry-ups and a decent bit of curry. He also had bad memories of the time when Val had read about cholesterol in a magazine at her hairdresser and put them both on a diet and he’d been faced with breakfasts that consisted of oatmeal porridge made with water and horrible translucent blue skim-milk. He had dutifully chewed his way through every bowl without complaint like an obedient husband, and he’d tried not to shudder at the cow-pats of cottage cheese and carrot sticks that had replaced the sandwiches and crisps he received in his lunchbox. It had been a miserable episode in his life which had amused Morse no end, and he’d never been so grateful as when Val had given up on the food thing and taken up dance classes instead.

For a week or so James had buried himself in consuming every piece of credible documentation he could find on diets and exercise. It was hard to ascertain exactly which way all this was heading, because Hathway didn’t say much except for “Yuck, that’s revolting,” when he read through an article on keto.

When the inevitable oatmeal did arrive, it did so in a very unexpected form.

“What’s this then?”

“Bircher porridge.”

It tasted luscious, tart and sweet.

“Is this - apple?”

“Oats soaked in apple juice overnight, plus Greek yoghurt, cinnamon and shredded apple.”

It was a revelation. The rest of the new regime proved to be a revelation too, and Robbie became acquainted with avocados tossed with diced plum tomatoes, salads with fresh tuna in lime juice, ginger and sesame oil and golden-brown pancakes made from ground almonds and bananas. At the weekend his newspaper-reading session was interrupted by the arrival of a treadmill and something that proclaimed to be a Home Gym in big red letters on the side. James directed them through to the spare bedroom.

“We’ll put a TV screen in here so you can watch something when we’re exercising,” James said by way of an explanation. “We may need a bigger house,” he added thoughtfully when the spare bed had to be stood on its side against the wall to fit the new machinery in. Robbie said nothing. Supper was a gloriously spicy vegetarian Tarka Dhal.

Sunday brunch proved to be a fry-up with bacon and eggs and sizzling mushrooms.

“I don’t understand,” said Robbie.

“We’re eating more healthily. No need to go without the occasional treat,” said James shrugging. “You love your Sunday morning fry-ups.”

“But I’m never going to lose weight if I eat like this,” said Robbie.

James frowned.

“You’re not overweight, Robbie. I agreed that we could both stand to eat better which is why we’re eating plenty of protein, healthy fats and fresh vegetables and pulses. We’re also cutting down on the refined carbohydrates and sugars considerably. But I’m not going to make both of us miserable for nothing.”

“But,” protested Robbie.

“What?” said James coming over to him and putting his arms around him.

Robbie patted his belly feebly. James smiled at him fondly and kissed him.

“That’s what the machines are for. Muscle toning.”

“Oh,” said Robbie. 

It was Sunday morning and the sun was shining and his lover was snickering at him. Or at least, James had been snickering at him until he grabbed Robbie’s face and kissed him repeatedly until he was giddy.

 

Innocent was pleased to announce that James Hathaway had made it to the rank of Detective Inspector. She also announced that Thames Valley was expecting a new intake of sergeants and constables and she expected all senior members of staff to attend the orientation seminar on Monday morning unless they were actively on a call-out. 

“This includes you, Inspector Hathaway, you’ll be handling the Q&A.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said.

Lewis was pleased that Peterson had been landed with making the main orientation speech after Innocent’s welcome spiel instead of himself; but less pleased when Innocent added in passing, “You’ll be attending too, Lewis, or I’ll want to know why not. And you will not look as if you are bored or are only there on sufferance.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Lewis tried not to scowl in displeasure.

“You will in fact look interested in the proceedings and approachable in case any of our new people want to ask questions of the senior inspectors.”

“I’ll do me best,” he said as evenly as he could manage, given that Hathaway was grinning gleefully at him from across the room and even Peterson looked amused. 

 

 

Hathaway had taken to wearing darker suits to fit his more senior position. Although even Lewis had to admit he looked very smart, it was nothing like the light grey suits the lad used to favour when they’d first met. The suits of the early years had made James look angelic. Ah well, it was probably understandable that the lad was going for the authority look rather than celestial purity in his first days as a newly-minted DI.

“What’s wrong?” said James as they were getting dressed on Monday morning.

“Nothing,” said Lewis.

“No, you distinctly frowned when you looked at me.” James knotted a dark tie around his neck carefully and then buttoned up his waistcoat.

“I just miss the old pink tie.”

“Do you?” James turned around to face him.

“Was rather fond of it.”

“Really?” The lad had a broad grin on his face now.

“Yes, really. I have eyes y’know,” said Lewis.

“I didn’t realise you’d noticed.”

“Oh, I definitely noticed.”

“Huh. Well, the tie hasn’t gone away. I might be persuaded to wear it for you sometimes.”

A vision rose in Robbie’s mind of James in that tie and nothing else and he felt himself blush. James noticed the blush and his eyes widened as he caught on to what Robbie was thinking.

“That’s not quite what I had in mind, Detective Inspector Lewis,” he said and he walked over to Robbie and put his arms around him. His voice dropped to a silky growl and he added, “although I think that you’ll also find that I can never deny you anything.”

 

 

The seminar was about as painful as Robbie had expected it to be. Fortunately, as this was a working precinct with plenty of jobs to be done, the session had to be kept to no more than an hour or so. He spent the time examining the faces of the new intakes. They were so young and fresh, eager-looking. Again he found his thoughts turning to retirement. Maybe it was time for him to get out of the way. Take up golfing or something. Perhaps get that allotment he’d often thought about but had never actually done anything to make happen. But would James want to stay with a pensioner? He’d mentioned it once to James, and James had paused in thought for a minute or two and said that of course Robbie should do it if he really wanted to.

“But?” said Lewis.

“I think you’d be bored after five minutes,” said James. 

He’d had to concede that James was probably right. But today, looking at a room full of people with smooth, unlined skin and glowing complexions, he just wasn’t sure if here belonged here any more. There were a couple of good-looking ones in the group too. He wondered if James would make friends with any of them. But then he’d never known James to make friends with any of his colleagues before, that Fiona McKendrick woman had been the one exception.

He frowned at the memory of Fiona. She’d climbed the ranks like a rocketship, and Robbie’d immediately disliked her because it had made him feel bad for James and more than a little guilty. After all, Hathaway had arrived in Thames Valley as a fast-track candidate, and an unusually bright and competent one at that. Everyone could see it. The moment that he’d settled into working with Lewis, it had become all the more clear that the lad had a brilliant mind, was dedicated to his work and was more than willing to go the extra mile to get the evidence he needed to make his case. He should have made DI before Fiona. The reason he hadn’t was because of Robbie Lewis, who had enjoyed working with his new sergeant far more than he had a right to. The casework had always been more important than preparing Hathaway for his exams, and the lad had never issued a syllable of protest.

He noticed that Innocent was staring daggers at him now and he realised that he had slipped into what Laura referred to as his resting-face scowl. Right. He was supposed to look interested and approachable. Sending Innocent what he hoped was an apologetic look, he refocussed his attention on Peterson who was now winding up his talk to a spatter of polite applause. James took the front of the room then, and Robbie felt his interest piquing naturally. He pretended not to notice Innocent giving him a knowing look and then turning her eyes up heavenward. James was doing well, in fact, if Robbie was in any way an objective eye. He was particularly good at explaining things, and had his audience listening and engaging with rapt attention. He had to admit, this was Hathaway in peak professional mode - radiating calm confidence and appearing in complete command of himself and the situation. There was a sudden burst of laughter from the audience, and James smiled, pleased with the response to his words. Robbie unconsciously mirrored the smile on his lover’s face. He enjoyed seeing Hathaway like this, in his element. He was probably the only person who knew the other Hathaway, the one who could sometimes unravel, in both the good and bad ways, and it was something he regarded as a privilege, being the one who got to see the whole person. But this version of Hathaway was magnificent. The round of applause was considerably warmer this time round, and Innocent returned to the front offering tea and coffee while the new members would be allocated to their teams. Robbie scanned the faces again, noting the brighter, more interesting-looking ones and wondering again if Hathaway would start to socialise with these men and women, so much closer to himself in age and looks. 

 

 

“They looked like a promising bunch this morning, didn’t they?” he said that evening as they worked out in their tiny gym.

Hathaway didn’t seem to have an answer. “Um, I s’pose” he said, waving his hand non-committedly and he ran on the treadmill, sweat beading on his brow.

“Some really nice-looking ones in there too,” Lewis continued.

He saw a look of confusion on James’s face.

“Were there?”

“You didn’t notice?”

The look of confusion deepened.

“Wait, did you spend the seminar checking the new people out?”

“What? No, of course not,” said Lewis, embarrassed now that he realised what he had probably sounded like, “but it wasn’t like there was anything else to do this morning except look at the audience.”

James sniffed.

“I should hope not. I wouldn’t want to think I was about to be thrown over for someone younger and prettier,” said James.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Robbie. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines that you might want to hang out with them. You know, people more your own age, have a pint, socialise, that sort of thing.”

James’s frown had now deepened into a full-blown scowl.

“I would have thought that you of all people would know I don’t ‘hang out’ with people, my age or otherwise. I go out with you and Laura. You know, people I actually like.”

Robbie’s arms were turning to jelly on the Home Gym and he stopped and exhaled in silence. 

“Robbie?” James stopped too, turning off the treadmill and coming over to Robbie, holding out his hand to help him up off the bench. “What’s this all about?”

“Ah, lad. I just sometimes worry that I haven’t always had a positive effect on you. I was watching you this morning, and you were so good at it. It made me think that you should have been doing this years ago already. You should have been an inspector long before that Fiona McKendrick woman. I got in your way.”

“Fiona?! What? I don’t know where this is suddenly coming from. Did it occur to you that I’m exactly where I want to be?” said James.

“You can’t deny that you could have passed your exams years ago. Probably would have if you’d had a better guv’nor than me.”

James stared at him for a moment, brain obviously turning over and over while he worked out how to respond to this while Robbie stood miserably in front of him, mopping his face with a towel. Then James deflated and he sat down on the overturned bed still propped up against the far wall.

“I suppose, hypothetically,” he said calmly and carefully, “I could have passed my exams years ago. Fiona, if you recall, was my girlfriend at the time, and she certainly dropped several unsubtle hints about my putting myself forward for it. I think she had plans for us being some sort of power couple in Scotland Yard one day.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not? I mean, you’re obviously good at what you do, and you enjoy the work. I’ve seen you work through the night trying to puzzle out a lead. Why not try to get ahead?”

“I didn’t want to. Yes, I enjoy the work, but I would never have enjoyed it without you. If you hadn’t come along, I doubt I’d have even stayed a policeman and God knows what I would have done if I’d given up my third career by the time I was thirty.”

“You’d have quit?” said Lewis in surprise.

“Without you, yes, I’d have quit.”

Robbie didn’t know what to say. James crossed the room and came to stand in front of him.

“Without you,” he said gently, “I would never have understood what we were for, nor seen the good we do. I would never have learned how to help people, even in small ways.”

He put his forehead against Robbie’s and they stood together in silence for a while. But James wasn’t finished.

“Without you to understand me, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to be me. I would have burned out and left the police force. So, you see, you were the opposite of a bad influence on me.”

Robbie sagged and let himself be held in James’s strong arms.

“So what was this really all about?” said James quietly in his ear.

“Ah, I don’t know. I suppose looking at all those young faces today made me think about retiring again. And then it made me think, what would you want to be stuck with a pensioner for? You could have anybody you wanted,” said Robbie.

“Assuming it were hypothetically plausible that I could have anybody I wanted, I would end up with you; and if it turned out that I wasn’t with you, then your whole conjecture would be shown to be untrue.”

Robbie couldn’t make himself form coherent words.

“In case I’m not making it clear enough, I want to be with you; whether you’re retired or not. I just don’t want you to be bored. Your happiness is what matters to me.”

Robbie nodded and let himself be led to shower and was rewarded with a cup of tea on his exit.

 

 

 _Meet me for a coffee?_ the text message from Laura read. So Lewis skipped out for an early lunch and went to meet Laura at a trendy little boutique cafe that had opened three blocks away that Lewis would normally never be caught dead in.

“What’s going on with you, Lewis?” She said, not unkindly.

“What makes you think something’s wrong with me?” he replied testily.

Laura fixed him with a look and said, “James is worried about you.”

“He spoke to you about me?”

“No,” she said. “He’s far too loyal to you for that. But I can see it in his eyes whenever your name comes up.” She stirred her coffee and then waved the teaspoon at him. “If you break his heart, they’ll never find your body, just so you know.”

Lewis exhaled heavily.

“I’m not trying to break his heart.”

“What then? Something’s got you all out of sorts these days.”

Lewis shrugged, not particularly wanting to be having this conversation right now. Or ever.

Laura looked at him assessingly, and then tried again.

“I think I know what this is all about.” she said. “Don’t think I haven’t been noticing the new clothes and the waistline that has lost about three inches in the last few months, if I’m any judge.”

Lewis scowled at her with his most forbidding expression. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” she added, “it looks good on you. But you’ve got it into your head that you’re too old for him, haven’t you, and this is you trying to somehow - I don’t know - reverse time? Make yourself look younger?”

It was humiliating.

“I am too old for him.”

Laura took his hand sympathetically.

“You think he has regrets?”

“I don’t know. No,” he said, more truthfully, remembering the enthusiastic love-making from this morning before breakfast. “I just don’t know why he doesn’t have regrets. And, I’m afraid that one day he will have regrets, and then I’ll lose him,” he finished up in a rush.

There. It was out.

Laura’s forehead creased and she looked at him with an expression of disbelief.

“Do you think he’s a half-wit?” she said.

Robbie spluttered into his coffee and set the cup down.

“He’s the most intelligent person I’ve ever known, present company excepted,” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes at the lame attempt at a compliment.

“Then why,” she said gently, “are you behaving as though he’s some sort of fool who isn’t capable of knowing his own mind?”

He had no answer.

“If James is as intelligent as we both know he is, don’t you think he’d already thought all the potential problems through long before now?”

Robbie stared at his cup mutely.

“If you ask me,” she continued, “it’s just plain rude not to trust that James has made up his own mind about what he wants.”

Robbie couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but he whispered quietly, “I love him.”

“I know you do,” she replied, “and he adores you. Seems to me,” she added, “that a man who loves and is loved in return has little reason to be looking like he’s attending his cat’s funeral.”

Robbie’s lips quirked at that and he couldn’t prevent a guffaw escaping. Laura beamed at him triumphantly.

“Thanks, pet” he said, kissing her hand.

“You’re welcome,” said Laura. “And I meant what I said about your body. Seriously, I have ways.”

 

 

When Robbie made it home that evening, James was on the couch idly watching bubbles rise to the top of his glass of tonic water with that typical copper look of resigned exhaustion on his face.

“Rough case, love?” Robbie enquired as he set his bags down on the kitchen counter.

James nodded ruminatively, then he roused himself and came over to join Robbie at the counter.

“I was hoping that we’d both be able to take a few days off soon,” Robbie continued. “I dropped in at an estate agent’s this afternoon, thought we may as well get started on house-hunting.”

James goggled at him in surprise.

“What?” said Lewis. “We’re going to need at least an entire extra room just for all your books. It doesn’t make sense, you having to keep your old flat just because you can’t fit your stuff in here, does it?”

He saw lights appearing in the lad’s eyes.

“No,” agreed James, “it doesn’t.”

“Good,” said Lewis nonchalantly, noting that James’s face had bloomed into a full-blown smile of delight. “So,” he added, “Any place in particular you’ve got your eye on?”

“Yes,” said James. “Somewhere with you in it.”

“I think we can manage something like that,” said Robbie, “although, what I really meant was -”

But here he was cut off because James had launched himself at Lewis and was covering his face in kisses before he settled one on Robbie’s mouth.

“I know what you meant,” said James.

“Course you do.” 

“Have I told you how much I love you recently?” said James.

“Well, there was this morning, three or four times while we had sex by my count, and then at least one more time afterwards. So, once or twice, yes,” said Robbie grinning.

“‘Kay,” said James, “because I do.”

“I know,” said Robbie, “and I count myself a very lucky man because of it.”

James gave him one of his beautiful fond smiles and picked up the agent’s brochure to flip through. Then he frowned.

“Wait a minute,” said James, “did you just Han Solo me?”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Lewis with a wicked grin, “now, how about pizza for supper?”


End file.
